


Cause I'll Be the One to Hold You

by nobetterlove



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Gray Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Manipulative Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham Doesn't Need Help, Will Graham Knows, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29766918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterlove/pseuds/nobetterlove
Summary: What would happen if Will and Hannibal met years before the canon beginning of the show? In this time shifting exploration, we find out what happens when Will literally runs into Hannibal on a hunt in New Orleans & how that changes and effects their canon adventure."Pulling in a deep breath, Will turned around the corner of the remaining building between himself and the water. With his skin prickling, he stopped dead in his tracks. Will wasn’t sure what stopped him first, the beauty of the man stuffing someone in the back of a car, or the full-body plastic suit that adorned his body. It was probably the man being stuffed into the trunk of a car, though – that was hard to miss."
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 18
Kudos: 262





	Cause I'll Be the One to Hold You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! 
> 
> I had this idea to do a past/present sort of thing with the "meet & get married" before canon idea - it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it down, so here's 20K of my time hopping madness. 
> 
> Each of the time shifts are labelled with a location and a year they take place - I hope it's not terribly confusing. 
> 
> Oh - I also stole a lot of dialogue from the episodes and then molded it to fit my whims. Thanks, Mr. Fuller for your brilliance. 
> 
> I obsessively listened to I Don't Mind by Darren Criss while I wrote this. I think it says a lot about me that I created this twisted shit with such a nice song :P

Quantico, Virginia - 2013

Taking a deep breath, Will forced himself to let go of the steering wheel, his fingers tingling from the rush of blood back into the digits. Early morning meetings with Jack Crawford were easily becoming the bane of his existence. Every one of them left him feeling run down and further from the answer they were looking for. The sheer amount of testosterone Jack radiated from his pores was nauseating, and the condescension he treated Will with was just shy of being unbearable. It didn’t help that he spent the night covered in sweat, tossing and turning like never before. 

His early rising meant getting a fancy cup of coffee from the small café just outside of Quantico, though. He learned, after drinking burnt grinds after an afternoon stop, that the morning coffee was way better and a great incentive to actually getting to work on time. The amazing coffee pot in his kitchen was always his first choice, but Jazzy’s came in close second. He took a long sip to drive that point home. Rich, dark coffee bean flavor coated his tongue – the sensory distraction enough to clear his head. 

As he got out of the car, Will pulled his coat a little tighter around himself – the weather took a turn for the cold earlier in the week and gradually got worse as the days passed. If it weren’t for the coffee in his hand, he would’ve been frozen to the core by the time he got to the entrance. The brief respite he managed in the car was gone already, his mood shifting back to the pitiful grumpiness he started the day with. Nearing Jack Crawford’s office door didn’t help. He wasn’t prepared for the rush of emotions and demands Jack expected of him. At this rate, he probably never would be. 

Will gave himself a second to get his shit together before opening the door. He chugged back the last of his coffee and tossed the cup in the trash. The warm coffee’s high acidity and Will’s gut clenching nerves made his stomach swim – the aftertaste of anticipation sat in his mouth, making the feeling worse. With another long deep breath, Will pushed the nausea and apprehension away. Showing any weakness around Jack wasn’t smart; the man wasn’t above using Will’s broken parts to his advantage. 

The air was heavy when he stepped into the room – the oxygen within it taken up by more than just Jack. Looking up, Will pursed his lips to keep a frown from overtaking his face. Jack was standing just slightly behind a tall man and the two of them were looking at the tack board of abduction victims critically. They were talking amongst themselves, Will’s presence not yet known. Capitalizing on the opportunity, Will sidetracked them both and fixed himself another cup of coffee. 

By the time Jack turned around, Will was already in his seat, looking at him blankly. Jack acknowledged him with the slightest tilt of the head, then turned his attention back to the other presence in the room. Will loosely followed the line of questioning, grimacing at both the cop from Duluth PD and Freddie Lounds’s uncouth nature. “Tasteless,” Will muttered under his breath, the word dripping from his mouth without much thought. For the first time since walking in the room, Will glanced over in the tall man’s direction. 

A surge of surprise shot through him, the idea of being left out of the loop hitting him hard in the gut for just a second. Will barely managed to school his features, a smirk that wanted to spill forth stopping with a quick flinch of his facial muscles. They locked eyes for a second, blue meeting an interesting maroon, then Will looked away. 

“Do you have trouble with taste?” Will heard, his ears prickling at the question. He tilted his head, contemplating his next words. 

“My thoughts are often not tasty,” Will responded, looking anywhere but the two men in the room. 

“Nor mine. No effective barriers.” The man shoved his hands in his pockets, walking over to the two seats in front of Jack’s desk. Will sat in one of them, the chair offering him just the slightest bit of protection and space. The other was empty, waiting for someone else to sit down. 

“I build forts,” Will replied, sniffing at the implication. 

“Associations come quickly.” Will watched him sit down, blue eyes following his movements until the look became staring. He picked up his coffee cup, taking a sip. 

“So do forts.” Though he wasn’t actively trying, Will’s eyes flitted back and forth between his shoe and deep maroon. He thought he did a good job covering his eye contact avoidance but was quickly proven wrong. 

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?” 

Squinting behind his glasses, Will worked hard to hold back a snort. He turned a bit more fully in his chair, locking eyes with the man next to him. “Eyes are distracting. You see too much, you don’t see enough. And-and it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking, um, ‘oh those whites are really white’, or, ‘he must have hepatitis’, or, ‘oh, is that a burst vein?’ So, yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible.” Unable to stop himself, he winked ever so slightly, gathering a small smile from narrow lips.

Turning to face the front of the room again, Will looked over at the head of the BAU. “Jack?” 

Jack had the gall to tilt his head innocently, like the random in the room was just a pleasant coincidence. He wanted to reach out and strangle the arrogance from him but was stopped by a smooth voice.

“I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams.” Maroon eyes were sparkling, the clarity of both the words and his knowledge like a blow to the chest. “No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love.” 

Quirking a brow, Will fired off the first question to come to his mind, “whose profile are you working on?” He directed it first at the maroon gaze taking him in, then turned to Jack. “Whose profile is he working on?” 

About to throw his hands up in exasperation, Jack looked to be scrambling to make excuses, his lips gulping in air like a fish. That same voice beat him to it, anyway. “I’m sorry, Will. Observing is what we do. I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off.” Long fingers wrapped around the same model coffee cup Will was nursing, the casual nature of it grating against his skin slightly. 

Will pulled in a deep breath, tapping into his petulance. “Please, don’t psychoanalyze me. You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.” He stood up then, looking between the two men in the office. Jack tried to calm him, the half-assed “Will” that left his lips laughable. Rolling his eyes, Will turned to collect his things.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture on psychoanalyzing.”

As he walked out the door, Will heard Jack admonish the man for poking Will a certain way. Like Hannibal gave two shits about the way he poked anyone, least of all Will. When the door shut behind him fully, Will took the opportunity to lean against the wall right by it, the smile he’d been holding back the entire time slipping across his lips. Aside from the surprise of seeing his husband there in the flesh, Will wasn’t disappointed with the exchange at all. This wouldn’t be the only time that Hannibal tread the halls of his workplace now that Jack had him in his sights. It was reassuring to know they could still pull any act off. 

Even the laughable one of not knowing each other, despite being together for almost three years. 

\---- 

New Orleans, Louisiana - 2010

It all started at the ass crack of dawn on a Tuesday. 

Will, after working a double, walked out of the office at two in the morning, helplessly fatigued, but nowhere near ready to relax into the comfort of his bed and find sleep. He thought about going to the gym, but quickly realized that it didn’t open for another couple of hours. The idea of running was distasteful, especially after hours of sitting behind a desk feeling his muscles get tighter by the second. He brushed it off, though – Will needed to wind down and sweating out the anxiety was the only way. 

He made it back to his house within a few minutes and got changed for his run. The Nikes that hadn’t touched pavement since his time in the academy laced up nice and tight on his feet, and his headphones sat just right in his ears. Aside from the fact that he actually had to run, Will felt ready and able to take on anything. He plugged himself into a playlist, locked his house door behind him, and took off down the road. 

Eventually, Will found a stride and lost himself to the cadence of his breathing and the one-two of his feet hitting the ground. Their latest case was going nowhere fast and the freeing detox from all of the information was just what he needed. The further down the rabbit hole he went with these cases, the harder it was to come back out – his move to homicide was a huge promotion, but the intensity of it pulled him down. He wasn’t sure if it was the access to such raw emotions, or the lack of disgust he felt towards them. Whatever it was, the job got harder to do as the days went by. 

Still sucked into the zone, Will almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a loud bang and then a muffled shout over the music blasting in his ears. Looking up, he briefly noticed how far he was away from his neighborhood. His feet brought him down to the water subconsciously, the smell of brine and day-old fish so prominent now that he gave his surroundings a second of attention. Will pulled his headphones out of his ears, pocketed them, and stood completely still, listening for the sound again. 

His gut told him to get a little closer to the water line (not run anyway, like any other sane person would). He wasn’t near docks or busy waterways, so the presence of anything other than the fish in the water and surrounding critters wasn’t a good thing. Pulling in a deep breath, Will turned around the corner of the remaining building between himself and the water. With his skin prickling, Will stopped dead in his tracks. He wasn’t sure what stopped him first, the beauty of the man stuffing someone in the back of a car, or the full-body plastic suit that adorned his body. It was probably the man being stuffed into the trunk of a car, though – that was hard to miss. 

Not saying anything, Will waited with bated breath for the man to look up and see him. The cop in him should have taken action almost immediately, but the compulsion (or desire) wasn’t there. He didn’t want to see this man with his hands up or call in the incident and attract the attention of the entire police force. Will wanted to see what happened next, instead. In all of his time on the force, he read about and saw pictures of instances like this, but never got to witness it in real time. 

Those thoughts were dangerous – allowing himself any time in the dark depths of his mind was never a good idea. He brought things back with him; things that, after living with them in his breaks and cracks, Will liked. They were coveted and in moments of weakness, revisited like a favorite movie or song – played over and over again until he finally felt full. 

The second of realization was palpable; night air shifted and if it all possible, all the oxygen fled from the space between them. In the dark, it was hard to see the color of eyes that stared at him unblinkingly. Without the strong, hazy glow of the streetlights, he looked like a predator – his eyes were narrowed, the flare of his nostrils clearly visible. A weaker person would have turned on the spot and fled, but Will didn’t – he overcame the urge and stood completely still, his empty hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

“Do you need any help?” Will asked before he could stop himself. Subconsciously, he understood the danger he was in. He was completely vulnerable, standing in relatively short shorts, a sweaty t-shirt, and nothing else. Digging his feet into the sand when it came to changing his phone, Will’s music wasn’t even pumping through an iPhone, but an iPod, which did him very little good – especially where getting help was concerned. 

There weren’t many options for him now, and the light that flashed across the man’s eyes was unreadable; the look was both bright and harsh, scary in its neutrality. Tucking his lip between his teeth, Will stood his ground; there was no turning back now. 

Without answering, the man finished his task with a loud closing of the trunk. His shoulders were tense while he moved, the clench of his traps visible; even under the bulk of plastic and what looked to be a fancy suit. The fact that he turned his back to Will spoke volumes – he wasn’t threatened and didn’t anticipate an attack. Any other day, Will might’ve been insulted, but he couldn’t bring himself to get there. With nothing going for him but luck and the little bit of wit he kept just under the surface, Will refused to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“Help? No. I think I have it handled from here. Amity, however, I would not be averse to,” the man said as he turned around, the squeak of the plastic with every step making his approach much less menacing than he probably intended. His eyes were dark, and his face was devoid of every emotion – to anyone else, he would’ve been scary. Will wasn’t anyone else, though. In fact, he had to bite hard into his lip to stop a laugh from bubbling up, the damn squeak so distracting that the man lost all intimidation factor in Will’s eyes. 

“Amity. Got it. You don’t have to kidnap me for that. I’ll go wherever you want me to,” Will replied easily. He dropped his arms down by his sides, the need to cross them over his chest just barely outweighed by his gut instinct. He needed to remain impassive and as far from a bodily threat as possible. Will wanted to stay alive, sure – he didn’t set out on a run (which he absolutely hated, by the way) to not make it back to his comfortable bed. Yet, he felt a sense of curiousness and intrigue overtake him, too. His actions weren’t just with survival in mind – Will genuinely wanted to see what happened next. 

“What makes you think I intend to kidnap you?” At the distance they were from each other, Will could see the making of maroon colored eyes and the slightest collection of wrinkles settling at the corners of them. His fingers were slowly clenching into a fist, the latex covering up the white of his knuckles and intensity of the squeeze.

Unable to stop himself, Will smiled, his lips tipping into a genuine grin for the first time in years. “I stumbled upon you stuffing someone into the back of your car. You would be a miserable criminal if you didn’t try to get rid of a witness,” Will rationalized, shrugging his shoulders. He didn’t break eye contact as he spoke, the man’s eyes the only pair he truly met in ages – maybe, if he were truly honest, ever.

“And you assume I’m not – miserable, I mean,” the man questioned, his head tilting with an invigorated sense of regard. 

Will did laugh then, his smile growing wider. “No, I don’t think you’re miserable. You’re covered from neck to toe in a plastic murder suit. There are even booties covering your feet. My presence here is the outlier – a completely random chink in your otherwise perfect chain. That man back there is not the first one you’ve put in that trunk.” 

A loud inhale of breath was the only answer Will got for a while. They stared at each other, Will counting the seconds between his breaths and the stranger’s answering ones. He tried to remain as calm as possible, his heart staying steady in his chest, despite the crazy situation he found himself in. There were no moves to come at him, the man’s posture noticeably relaxing, his stiff shoulders gone by the wayside. 

“So, you know my next move and yet you stand there without an ounce of fear. I think that says more about you than it does me.” There was just enough light to catch the glowing white of his teeth as he sneered. “What should I do with you, then? You seem like a clever man – what happens next?” 

“Oh, I’m afraid. Don’t get me wrong, you are very frightening. Imposing in a certain kind of way. I’m also curious and that makes me stupid, I’ll admit that,” Will babbled honestly, his filter gone now that words were slipping out of his mouth without thought. “There are a few different options, I think. The easiest would be to kill me – use whatever paralytic you brought with you for that guy and get rid of me. Something tells me you’re not that impulsive, though. You could take me with you, but even that might end up with me dead at the end of it.” Will stopped then, gaging the man’s reaction. His eyes were wide, waiting for Will to continue. “Or, and I think I like this option the best, you could take me up on my offer to help.” 

“Who are you?” The man asked in place of an answer. His lips were pulled into a smirk to match Will’s, the darkness in his eyes suddenly replaced with genuine delight. If Will wasn’t interesting to him before, he certainly was now. 

“Will,” he answered after a beat – the look on the stranger’s face was too good not to absorb and keep in his mind for later. Most people thought him to be a freak; his talents were abnormal and his less than sociable personality pushed him further from the void of normalcy. Not his stranger. He looked absolutely delighted. “I think the most important question is, who are you?” 

Snapping off his right glove, plastic suit man stuck his hand out between them. The hand felt like an invitation to something – what, Will wasn’t really sure yet, but he planned to find out, anyway. Will reached forward, slipping his own hand into the warm grip. Their hands squeezed together, the callouses of Will’s palms rubbing against moisturized softness. Will kept his grip firm, never breaking eye contact.

“I’m Hannibal,” he said, giving Will’s hand another firm squeeze before letting go with a long sigh. His eyes were practically glowing in the light, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening with the gesture. “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you.” 

With the introductions out of the way, the rest of the night fell into an odd sort of haze. Instead of striking out like Will thought he might, Hannibal invited him into the car – going so far as to open the passenger side door for him. Will climbed in without hesitation, his fate was already out of his hands at that point, why fight it? 

He got his seat belt on and rested calmly against the seat all before Hannibal climbed behind the wheel. Their eyes locked again as Hannibal started the car, the absence of tension palpable. In a way, Hannibal felt more familiar than the entirety of Will’s friends, acquaintances, and coworkers combined. His murderous energy settled within Will, stirring up feelings he tried so hard not to recognize. The man’s embracing of it was off the wall and arousing – Will wanted so desperately to cling to the intoxicating feeling of freedom that he thoughtlessly threw caution to the wind. 

Silence sat between them for a while, the smooth sound of the steering wheel against Hannibal’s hands the only sound. Will had to sit on his hands to stop himself from fiddling – he wanted to run them all over the smooth leather interior and fiddle with the radio dial, but he knew better. Blindly trusting and forgetting everything he knew were two separate things; even in his recklessness, Will recognized that. 

“Are you going to kill me?” Will asked to break the silence. They looked to be heading towards the highway through a system of backroads – he knew from his patrolling of many of them during his rookie years. Though he looked at Hannibal almost every second, he kept track of where they were, too. 

A chuff of a laugh had Will tilting his head. He wondered if that was a usual sound that Hannibal made, or if the awkwardness of it was genuine in the lack of consistent use. Hannibal took another couple of turns before giving his attention to the question. 

“No, I do not think I am. You are a police officer, yes? That could be beneficial,” Hannibal finally replied. He extended his hand across the divide between them and tapped on the NOPD emblem on the front of Will’s shorts. 

Blushing at both the touch and the unintentionally dangerous wardrobe mistake, Will shifted slightly, fighting between getting closer to Hannibal’s touch and escaping his own embarrassment. “Detective. I work homicide,” Will corrected absentmindedly. “I’ve probably looked at a few of your crime scenes.” 

“Most likely not. I just arrived in the city. I’m here working on some academic research at Tulane.” Hannibal paused for a moment, letting Will absorb the information. “I’m still not entirely familiar with the area. Obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Will parroted, shaking his head. “What are you studying at Tulane?” 

The brakes caught as Hannibal pulled up to a stoplight, the timing impeccable. Hannibal turned in his seat, his eyes flashing. “Psychiatry. A colleague of mine put together a study on social exclusion.” 

“Interpersonal participation would be your area of expertise.” Will let his mind wander, suddenly even more intrigued than just moments before. “What population are you studying? I’m sure that campus is full of candidates ripe for the picking.” 

“We are looking at an older population, actually. Women between 35 and 50. It is interview based and focused around childhood trauma. I’m looking forward to it.” By then, the light changed, and Hannibal’s main focus was back on the road. He drove a little further before they were stopped again. “I would like to take you home. Which way do I go on the highway?” 

Slightly taken aback, Will pointed towards the sign for the northbound direction, and continued to navigate until they were outside of his house. His head was spinning with the whiplash of the entire night, his fatigue from earlier finally catching up to him. To top it off, the night came to the oddest end when Hannibal simply unlocked the door and raised an expectant brow.

“This has been the most interesting evening I’ve ever had,” Will admitted while reaching for the door. He turned to glance at Hannibal one more time, looking back over his shoulder. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

Hannibal nodded once; his eyes pinched in a barely there look of contentment. “Goodbye, Will.” 

\---- 

Quantico, Virginia | Baltimore, Maryland – 2013

For his first lecture back in the classroom, Will covered the Minnesota Shrike case – the absolute clarity of it shocking now that all of the puzzle pieces were fit together. Without Hannibal’s copycat killing, they might have never caught Garrett Jacob Hobbs. They were too late to save his daughter, but no more girls that look just like her would go missing. He wasn’t a fan of Hannibal’s tactics when he kept him in the dark – yet, he understood the method. Will worked best when enraged with Hannibal’s behavior and quickly caught onto the things right in front of him. 

Many students wanted to approach him when he finished up, a group of them collected in front of his desk to wait patiently. Luckily, Alana Bloom walked into the room. She shot him a smile, though her eyes were a little nervous. Combined with the rhythmic clench of her hand in front of her, Will knew something was up. 

Not so lucky, after all. 

“Hi,” Will said in greeting. He avoided eye contact with her and continued to pack his notes and papers into the front pocket of his satchel. 

“How are you, Will?”

The question elicited a long sigh, his eyebrows pinching together. He gave her a bit more attention when he answered. “Uh, I have no idea.” Will forced a smile and a chocked off laugh. The inner turmoil stemmed from a lot of things, but not what they assumed – it was never what they assumed. Will wasn’t a wilting flower, no matter what people let themselves think.

Alana sucked in an audible breath and shifted her facial expression to one of subtle pity, her lips pursing together with every word out of her mouth. “Um, I didn’t want you to be ambushed.” 

“This is an ambush?” Will fired back instantly. He tilted his head to the side, blue eyes looking over Alana’s shoulder. He bit into his tongue to stop a groan from leaving his chest – of course Jack would approach him here. 

“Ambush is later. Immediately later – soon to now. When Jack arrives, consider yourself ambushed,” Alana replied, her voice taking on a sorry quality that made Will’s skin crawl. Jack stepped up to her shoulder a second later. 

“Here’s Jack.” 

Snorting, Will got up from his perch on the edge of his desk, his bag clutched tightly in his hands. He took the few steps around the desk, wanting to be completely oblivious to the conversation, despite the inevitability of it. 

“How was class?” Jack asked, looking at Alana with an interesting tilt of his head. She didn’t hesitate to speak out or go around stop signs when the occasion called for it. The obvious way it grated on Jack’s nerves was lovely. 

“Um, they applauded. It was inappropriate.” Will kept his head down while he spoke, packing up his computer, a couple of pens – practically anything to not look up. Jack was there to pester him, and Will didn’t have the brain power for it. 

“Well, the review board would beg to differ. You’re up for an accommodation,” Jack admonished pausing to look between Will and Alana. “And they’ve okayed active return to the field.”

The look made sense now – Alana rebelled against Will setting foot in the field to begin with. Her interference had nothing to do with Will at all; she wanted her opinion known and would take the necessary steps for everyone to hear her out – no matter how it made her look or others feel. She turned her eyes on him, that soft and piteous look returning. 

“The question is, do you want to go back to the field?” 

Will looked up then, heaving in a large breath. The field was a double-edged sword for Will – filled to the brim with parts and pieces that called to him yet covered in dark spots that shadowed him. He was good for the field, but the field was not always good for him. 

“I want him back in the field,” Jack said, cutting in before Will could make himself talk and provide an response. He was all the better for it, anyway – Will still didn’t know how he’d answer the question. “And I’ve told the board I’m recommending a psych eval.” 

That made Will hesitate, the skin of his neck prickling. Is that why Alana was truly here? “Are we starting now?” He quirked a brow at Alana, attempting to keep his cool with the look alone. She seemed surprised by his question, her exasperation easily answering it. 

“Oh, the session wouldn’t be with me.” 

“Hannibal Lecter’s a much better fit. Your relationship’s not personal,” Jack added with certainty. Will wondered what it would feel like to wipe the shit eating look off his face with a confession of how wrong he truly was. 

Taking the bait for what it was, Will decided to capitalize on the situation. He made a few halfhearted excuses about why therapy wasn’t a good fit, distracting them both enough to make it out the door without a direct answer or certainty of anything. Though he didn’t know it, Jack gave Will the perfect excuse to bug off and spend some quality time with his husband on the FBI’s dime. When the truth came to the surface, Jack was in for some shocking revelations – his assumptions and tactics piss-poor in a situation where he didn’t even know the game they were playing. 

Why not have a conversation with Hannibal, indeed? 

The drive from Quantico to Hannibal’s office was a little less than two hours – the silence of the vehicle and peace of an empty highway helped to clear Will’s head a little. Things were getting a little too close to home and the pressure he felt from all sides was becoming so much. With things so busy, Will and Hannibal were practically living different lives, only coming together when work called for it, or they snuck in a night together at home here and there. The decision to keep their relationship between them all those years ago was feasible at the time, but Will felt a little helpless. Hannibal was his pillar – only having that some of the time increasingly grated on him as the stressful days passed. 

Will got to Hannibal’s office a little after 7, his husband’s last client good and gone by the time he walked into the building. Like the civilized human he was, Will knocked on the office’s main door, a small smile pulling across his lips. 

Hannibal’s footsteps were soft on the pale gray floorboards, the sound of them almost too hard to hear; the click of the door opening was Will’s only warning before they were suddenly looking at each other. Hannibal seemed slightly surprised but pushed the feeling away without hesitation. His cheeks pinched in that secret smile of his, maroon eyes alight with curiosity and pleasure. 

“Will, what a lovely surprise,” Hannibal said softly. 

He stepped back from the door and welcomed Will in, one of his large hands skimming across Will’s lower back lightly. The touch felt like fire; heat and a rough scorching feeling settled across Will’s skin. After the stress of the day, simply being in Hannibal’s presence soothed an ache that settled a few weeks ago when Jack Crawford entered his life. 

“Jack sent me for a psych eval. Thought you’d be the perfect candidate because our relationship isn’t personal,” Will replied, his tone flippant at the absurdity of his last statement. They shared a look, the beauty of a secret tangled between them making the hardships they willingly took on a little less dreary. In private moments, where masks were off and walls were down, every moment of their crazy life felt worth it. 

“He will feel silly about that one day,” Hannibal noted, his face softening slightly. He pressed a soft kiss to Will’s head, then walked over to his desk, dexterous hands already working to find something there. Will took the opportunity to climb the ladder and pace across the upper level. The order and organization of Hannibal’s meticulous nature was calming and immersing himself in it was a catharsis. 

Taking a few steps, Will looked up just in time to see Hannibal approach, a pristine piece of paper in his hands. It took him a second to realize that Hannibal already knew of Jack’s intentions – probably did before Will, even. The sheepish look in Hannibal’s eye when he caught Will’s told him how right he was about that. 

“What’s that?” The question echoed in the room, his position on the second floor keeping the words in the air for what felt like forever. Hannibal pulled the paper straight between both his hands, his thumb and pointer finger pulling at the edges. 

“Your psychological evaluation. You are totally functional and more or less sane. Well done.” He raised the paper in Will’s direction like a toast, then placed it on the desk by the chair Will took whenever they spent time here. Hannibal’s lips quirked in a mocking smile, the enjoyment he felt for the entire situation so glaringly apparent. 

Will tipped his head, looking at him curiously. “Did you just rubber stamp me? After all these years, I thought you might enjoy a professional reason to dig inside my head. A different kind of unfettered access.” He made sure to catch Hannibal’s eye – there was a lot of truth alongside the sarcasm in his statement. Hannibal always wanted to push him; the analogy of winding him up and watching him go obscenely appropriate. He showed love that way – breaking down boundaries until nothing between them existed. 

“Yes,” Hannibal said simply, “Jack Crawford may lay his weary head to rest knowing he didn’t break you and our time together can proceed unobstructed by paperwork and silly assumptions.” His long legs carried him to the bottom of the ladder, his head tilted up. “Come down – tell me about your day.” Hannibal’s hand was extended, the vision of it an instant jump back in time to that first night – the one that changed absolutely everything. 

Biting into his bottom lip, Will nodded slightly and made his way down the ladder. He was stopped at the bottom before he could turn around, Hannibal’s arms pinning him in, the length of them on either side of Will’s body. His nose pressed into the back of Will’s neck, his lips caressing him there lightly. “It seems pertinent to remind you just how personal our relationship is,” Hannibal murmured, the words nipped and sucked into exposed skin. 

With a soft sigh, Will rested his head back against Hannibal’s shoulder, giving him better access to his neck and jaw. Hannibal moved his hands from the sides of the ladder to Will’s hips. He gripped tightly and pulled Will backwards, Hannibal’s eager hips thrusting against pert globes of Will’s ass. Groaning, Will reached behind him and slid his fingers into the hair at the back of Hannibal’s head. “I like how that sounds. How are you going to go about doing it?” Will asked, pressing back into warmth and sharp hip bones. 

Hannibal took his time answering, his lips occupied with every inch of skin he could reach. His hands were restless, too – they bunched up Will’s shirt until the edges came untucked from his pants. Under two layers of a shirt and jacket, Hannibal found bare skin, skimming his fingertips along the etching of Will’s abdominals. His chest was warm against Will’s back, their connection tangible in the heated closeness. 

“I thought to map out your bare skin with my hands and mouth. Maybe reacquainted myself with the musk of your groin and the heaviness of your cock on my tongue,” Hannibal shifted his grip while he spoke, one of his palms brushed Will’s bare stomach while the other cupped a quickly burgeoning erection. “I’ll open you up and then press inside; make you feel every inch of me.” 

Quick fingers worked at Will’s belt buckle, Hannibal’s skill at getting his pants done one-handed never ceasing to amaze. His hand plunged into the opening of Will’s boxer briefs to grip bare skin – the wrap of his long fingers like magic. Will groaned loudly, leaning more heavily into Hannibal’s chest. “What happened to your no sex in the office rule?” Will panted out, his hips thrusting into Hannibal’s hand with each of the man’s short strokes. 

A gust of amused air brushed across Will’s neck, Hannibal’s enjoyment concrete in the touch. “You know how I feel about rules,” Hannibal started, removing all points of contact before turning Will around, pressing him back against the ladder. “They are made to be broken.” The last word was barely out of his mouth when Will leaned forward and sealed their lips together. 

His hands wrapped around Hannibal’s shoulders, bringing their bodies close so no space remained. With their hips pressed together, Will felt Hannibal’s excitement butted up against his own. The zipper of gray suit pants teased along the bits of flesh revealed, the cold and scratch of it delightful in its juxtaposition. 

Large hands cupped the middle of Will’s back, his fingers digging into the hunter green jacket Will changed into before walking into the office. If he gripped any harder, the fabric might rip – and Will welcomed the feeling. The way Hannibal made it seem like he was always so desperate for Will in times like this (which he absolutely was) made his heart ache with happiness and want. Hannibal didn’t treasure much, but Will knew he was high on the list of things he did. 

For a while, Hannibal explored Will’s mouth with meticulous care and concentration. His tongue moved over every tooth and tangled deliciously with Will’s; there was no fight for control or hesitant touches. Hannibal moved and when he did, Will shifted to accommodate him. 

The need to breath and remove clothes had them pulling away from each other. Will reached over to work on Hannibal’s waistcoat, the large buttons like small pins in his shaky hands. A breath of triumph left his mouth when he got it open and his hands plunged inside. Hannibal’s core was warm from the multiple layers and his affinity to run a little warmer than everyone else. His shirt was wrinkled slightly and Will’s fingers played over those imperfections obsessively. 

Will kept Hannibal close for a moment, letting his hands wander and caress. He wanted skin to skin contact but couldn’t help himself – having Hannibal against him was everything. It took a lot of effort to pull away and work on the buttons of Hannibal’s shirt. His excitement fueled some hand-eye coordination and got them open in record time. When Will pushed at the shirt, waistcoat, and suit jacket in tandem, Hannibal shrugged his shoulders and let all the layers fall. Like a vision, Hannibal stood in the intimate light, shirtless, and absolutely gorgeous. 

“You’re stunning,” Will muttered, his hands running over the long planes of Hannibal’s sides, then up and across thick abdominals. The skin was smooth and covered with a thick layer of blondish-gray chest hair. It bristled across Will’s fingers with every brush and swipe. 

Too soon, Hannibal shifted out of his grip, his hands moving to work over Will’s shirt, instead. They were both shirtless with a few swift movements of strong hands. Hannibal’s disrobing of him was always so calm and collected, meticulous in the same way that everything was with him. Will felt Hannibal hesitate, his husband taking a second to look at him and merely enjoy. They shared a smile, then Hannibal guided Will back into a kiss, a breath of satisfaction leaving his lips when the distance closed, and their chests collided. 

Their kisses were heated, the hot press of Hannibal’s pecs and stomach against Will bringing things to a boiling point. Will kept his lips firmly against Hannibal’s while he fumbled and worked on Hannibal’s pants, the belt and button coming loose easily. Will greedily dipped his hand under the waistband of Hannibal’s briefs, his fingers skimming along well-manicured pubic hair before wrapping around the fully hardened length. He didn’t stroke; Will simply held Hannibal in his hand, counting the throbbing pulses of life. 

Hannibal broke away and cupped Will’s cheeks with his large palms. He tilted Will’s head back until he brought blue eyes up to look directly at him. “Take everything off and lay on the lounger,” Hannibal commanded, his thumbs rubbing over Will’s cheekbones in a tantalizing contrast of touch. 

Will reacted immediately, pushing his pants and boxer briefs down and stepping out of them. He ran both of his hands across Hannibal’s stomach when he walked past him to the lounger, his touch lingering. The fabric of the chair felt cool against his bare skin – goosepimples tracked up and down his limbs in response. Will let his hand follow the trail down his chest to wrap around his erection, giving himself a quick stroke in time with Hannibal’s approach. 

Before shucking his pants, Hannibal dug out his wallet and removed the portable packet of lube from the fold of it. He threw it in Will’s direction, the package hitting him square in the chest. A snarky smirk slipped across Will’s lips, the implications of the slick making his cock throb with a deep ache. 

“Fuck me, please,” Will begged, blue eyes glued to Hannibal as he shed the last of his clothes and settled between Will’s legs. Without thought, Hannibal tucked his head into the crease of Will’s neck and shoulder and mindlessly nodded, the brush of his hair and nose against sensitive skin so fucking scandalous in its base pleasure. 

“Patience, my love,” Hannibal replied, affection rich in his voice. He gave Will’s neck a kiss, then placed another against eager lips. While he lipped and nipped at Will’s face and jaw, Hannibal’s hands went haywire. He started on thick thighs, prompting Will to wrap them around the width of his middle. His fingers tickled up and down Will’s legs, the muscles there jumping under the teasing touch. 

Little by little, Will relaxed under Hannibal’s ministrations. His husband made good on his promise of feasting on every inch of his skin. Will sported a necklace of bruises and suck marks just under the line of where his collar would be, the claims there for them and them alone. The soft roundness of Hannibal’s nose swept down Will’s stomach and settled in his pubic hair – Hannibal dragged in a long breath, then looked up at him like he was intoxicated from the exposure. 

Hannibal kept looking at him, even as he grabbed Will’s cock by the base and traced the head around the edge of his mouth. Will’s leaky precum coated red lips like lipstick, the glisten of it in the white light horrendously indecent. Hannibal licked and sucked at the wet head until Will reached down and dug his fingers into graying hair – the harsh touch spurring Hannibal on. His throat opened and engulfed Will down to the very root. 

“Oh fuck!” Will bellowed, his glutes tightening in an attempt to stop his hips from thrusting up. Hannibal took care of the urge a second later, his hands rough on Will’s hips. Hannibal picked up the pace of his mouth, making a lewd picture every time the tip of Will’s cock hit the back of Hannibal’s throat. His lips were stretched so wide, the swell of his cheekbones blistered with a deep red. The lack of oxygen and evidence of arousal was gorgeous – and so hard to watch without jumping off the edge too soon. 

With his impeccable sense of Will’s needs, Hannibal gave Will one more hard suck and pulled away, his lips popping with the movement. Will watched him reach between his own legs and stroke the large cock waiting there. Maroon eyes were momentarily covered by heavy eyelids in Hannibal’s pleasure. It seemed to be enough to take the edge off, because Hannibal was back to his ministrations almost immediately, picking up the lube and opening it with a quick rip of his teeth. There was a beat when they simply stared at each other, then lube was on long fingers and those digits were between Will’s legs, rubbing the slick against an eager hole. 

The tips of two fingers traced Will’s entrance, a soft groan leaving his chest with every forward push of that circular motion. Hannibal knew how to play him just right, opening him up without a single point of displeasure. Will appreciated the burn, his arousal peaking with that subtle shift from strain to a sumptuous stretch. 

With the thrusts in, Hannibal just barely pressed against Will’s prostate – each pull out, Hannibal scissored his fingers to stretch against Will’s walls. He used two and then three fingers to pull Will out of his head – Hannibal had this way about him that made Will focus on their bodies and nothing else. 

After what felt like hours of teasing, Will gripped Hannibal’s forearm. “Enough. I’m ready,” Will babbled, looking down to catch Hannibal’s eyes. When he found them, another wave of arousal shot through Will’s core – the color in Hannibal’s eyes was no more, the entirety of them overtaken by dark pupils, instead. He looked hungry, impatient to bury himself into the meal Will made laid out before him. 

Situated as comfortably on the chaise as they could get, Hannibal gripped the back of Will’s thigh with one hand while guiding his cock to Will’s hole with the other. He made little abortive thrusts there, the spongy tip of his cock barely sinking past the initial ring of muscle. As the muscles stretched, more and more of Hannibal sunk in, his husband’s thrusts longer now, focused on the slide inside. Will shouted with relief when Hannibal finally settled home, the firm press of his hips against Will absolutely stunning. 

“I always miss you when you’re gone,” Will admitted, his hands wrapping around Hannibal’s upper back to keep him close. “When you’re not inside of me, it’s torture.” He was panting already, overcome by Hannibal’s weight on top of him and the delightful beauty of their joining. Being together like this felt like coming home and Will was never sated. 

“I’m always inside of you.” Hannibal placed his hand over Will’s chest, his fingers tapping against the place where Will’s heart sat. He shifted until he could press his lips there too, his hips snapping forward a little faster. In the new position, Hannibal’s leverage was amazing, and every shove forward had his cock brushing endlessly against Will’s sensitive prostate. Hannibal was panting, his eyes glued to Will’s. 

“Will you come for me?” Hannibal questioned, dropping his hand between them to give some relief to Will’s untouched cock. 

The head was smeared with precum and each dead on hit of his prostate made more of it dribble from him. His stomach was sticky, from sweat and tangible arousal both. Will breathed out loudly through his nose and when he tried to answer, nothing came out. The words were stuck in the depth of his throat, his eyes bulging wide. 

“That’s it, Will. Just let go. I’m here. Wade into the stream and let it all go,” Hannibal cajoled, his fingers working ruthlessly over Will’s engorged flesh. Blood looked alive pulsing under his skin, the pump in Hannibal’s muscles and veins so devastatingly sexy. In an attempt to stave off his own end, Hannibal gripped his bottom lip tightly between his teeth. Between the kissing, blowjob, and taken abuse, Hannibal’s lips would be puffy for hours. 

Will delighted in the thought. 

Tossing his head back, Will followed Hannibal’s instructions and let go, the boiling pit of arousal in his center dropping out and exploding in his core and down, across each limb like liquid fire. His eyes snapped shut and Hannibal’s name played on his lips over and over again. Hannibal stroked him through his orgasm, his husband never neglecting him, despite his own delectable finish. The tantalizing feel of Hannibal’s spend settling deep within Will made his muscles clench and his cock jump again – another small earth-shattering wash of orgasm rushing over him.

“Oh, Hannibal,” Will whispered, using both hands to cup Hannibal’s cheeks and pull him in for a kiss. It was tender, the touch of lips so soft, it was barely there. When he pulled away, Will nosed against Hannibal’s nose and cheeks and chin – the intimacy of the moment sticking around the longer they touched. 

In a second, the need to clean up would become pressing, but for now, Will let himself drift, clinging to Hannibal like the lifeboat he was. 

\---- 

New Orleans, Louisiana – 2010 

For two weeks following his run in with Hannibal, Will waited impatiently for the man’s next move. He took to the internet to try and find information on the new mystery, but the lack of a last name didn’t turn up much. None of the surface level stuff would be all that telling, anyway – Hannibal lived his life under the guise of a picture-perfect citizen. Getting to know the actual being behind the persona, that’s how Will cracked open the case. 

Of course, getting to know the man meant actually seeing him again, and for whatever reason, Hannibal didn’t show Will any sign of life for what felt like ages. The first couple of nights after their meeting, Will worried he might come when his guard was down, but that feeling was fleeting. If he wanted him dead, Will knew that Hannibal didn’t need to wait for him to be unaware to make an entrance. Why would he kill him now, anyway? Aside from the obsessive thinking about the man himself, Will didn’t contemplate turning him in or blabbing once. 

That wasn’t what he wanted from or for Hannibal. 

With so much time on his hands, Will took the opportunity to really think about what his desires consisted of. It didn’t take much to realize just how unhappy he felt in his current situation – the puzzle of the job interested him, but the hurry-up and wait bureaucracy that went with it was a hassle and made getting anything done hard. Most of the criminals they brought in ultimately found a way to dodge their justified sentence in the end. The justice system wasn’t set up to bring about actual equity – instead, it fostered the sort of environment that put status first and let many crimes go severely unpunished. So many of the murderers he brought in deserved much worse than their inevitable slap on the wrist. 

Will often wondered what it would be like to enact the right kind of justice those people deserved – with the repertoire of horrors in the hidden depths of his brain, many of the punishments were twisted and sadistic, gory in their intensity. And despite not knowing anything about Hannibal, Will knew the man dealt exclusively in justice. His victims wronged him somehow – he just wasn’t sure what the gage of that wrong was. 

Aside from the obvious connection to his darker parts and the handsome looks Hannibal sported, Will saw the doctor for what he truly was – an opportunity. Will wasn’t entirely convinced that he could pull the trigger and take someone’s life ruthlessly without a care in the world; his exposure to that was too new, too raw. 

He wasn’t naïve to the truth, though – one day, the band would snap. Yet, he felt that his best attempt at contributing to Hannibal’s cause from his position at the time came from the insider information available to him. Hannibal and his wanderings would stay off the radar while Will learned and experienced and understood. It felt right, somehow – if Hannibal ever decided to seek him out and ask for it. 

After a late shift a couple of Fridays into his waiting game, Will checked the mail to find a fancy, handwritten letter in his mailbox. The envelope was heavy, made out of high-quality paper, and the calligraphy on the front was stunning. Big loops in the G of his last name made a spark of heat ignite in his belly. Will remembered distinctly keeping his surname to himself – it looked as if Hannibal did his own research before reaching out. 

A rush of adrenaline flitted across Will’s skin as he opened up the envelope – the smell of musky cologne hitting him out of nowhere, making his stomach swoop. Will shook his head to clear it, impatiently pulling an equally fancy card out of the elegant envelope. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the cursive, an invitation to dinner unfolded itself before him as they did. The next day’s date made his heart race – it was the first day off he managed to snag in almost twenty days. He wondered if Hannibal knew that, or if luck sat heavily on his side. From the lack of notoriety Will found in his research, he highly doubted that Hannibal left anything to luck. 

Will spent most of the next day nervously flitting around running errands, picking up whatever chore he could find, fixing all the loose things, and even washing his beat-up truck. When he took a second to be still, his heart started to race in anticipation; being idle wasn’t worth the arrhythmia. Working himself until it was time to go ended up being a good thing, anyway – his mind was primed for the intense interaction that was bound to come. 

Dressing in his nicest black slacks and a light gray button down, Will took an extra few minutes to look critically in the mirror while he pulled himself together. His freshly washed curls were still a bit damp, the longer ends kinking charmingly. He ran a handful of hair mousse through them to keep the effect intact. With his hair pulled back from his forehead the way it was, Will looked much more mature. The glasses clashed with his outfit, so Will opted for contacts; his bulky frames hid his eyes and without them, the cerulean blue of his eyes stood out heavily. 

With a quick nod after one last perusal, Will forced himself away from his reflection. It would be way too easy to obsess over it – to think so hard about what might please the murderer that he forgot himself and missed the evening entirely. Before walking out of the room, he pocketed his wallet and keys, leaving his gun and pocketknife on their usual spot on the counter. He hadn’t changed his mind – the less outwardly aggressive Will made himself, the better his chances were. 

What chances he was looking at, Will still wasn’t sure yet – but he didn’t plan to lose them before they even showed their face. 

After locking up and plugging Hannibal’s address into the GPS, Will started towards his destination, a hungry feeling settling in his stomach. Though they were eating dinner, Will knew it had nothing to do with food. He was starving for something else and didn’t know it until chilling maroon eyes were on him. 

The drive went by quickly, Will spending most of it caught between the mind-numbing music on the radio and fleeting thoughts. He let himself simply drive, losing the thirty minutes it took to get to Hannibal’s in a peaceful sort of bliss. Not only did he not get to see others outside of his job, but he didn’t often get to drive. His current partner was gruff and wouldn’t give up the driver seat even if Will wanted to fight him for it. 

A soft sigh left Will’s lips when he pulled up outside of Hannibal’s house. Despite being there for a short duration of time, the outer décor of the house was impeccable. There wasn’t anything flashy, but the yard was neatly trimmed and the array of plants leading up to the front door were impressive. A large live oak tree stood proudly by the edge of the property line, the towering foliage a perfect addition to the cookie cutter ensemble. 

Hannibal certainly went all out. 

Gripping the bottle of wine he stopped to pick up on the way back from one of his errands, Will took the handful of steps up to the front door – an odd sort of pep in his stride. He lifted his left hand and tapped out a rhythmic beat against the heavy wooden door. Will stood back and counted out the seconds between his knock and the echo of Hannibal’s footsteps. The count was up to eleven by the time Hannibal pulled open the door. They shared a heated look for a second, each of them reevaluating the other. 

“I got this for you,” Will blathered in place of a greeting – his cheeks heating with a strong blush immediately. Unable to control himself, Will continued. “You look much better without the squeaky plastic.” His tongue already spouted off once, why not dig his grave a little deeper? He held out the bottle, covering up his embarrassment with tactility. 

Hannibal took the bottle with a graceful move, his fingers brushing up against Will’s skin on the transfer. There was a beat of silence, then a light laugh. “This is a good vintage, thank you.” Hannibal said through his chuckle. “That is nice to hear. You look amazing as well. The gray you are wearing really brings out the color of your eyes.” Hannibal stood back then, waving Will into the house. 

There was a quick tour through a couple of very basic, almost barren rooms that were well decorated, but lacked perceptible life. Will didn’t feel the spark of Hannibal until they trickled into the kitchen – the room stood out and pulsed like a heart. The counters were spotless, gleaming with cleanliness of high-quality material and good care. Other than the few pots that Hannibal moved flawlessly around while he plated, the room was spotless and absolutely gorgeous. Finally, a glaring spot of Hannibal’s personality on display. 

Will would’ve gladly spent the rest of the night in the confines of the fancy kitchen, but was quickly led to a pristine dining room, instead. If the kitchen was the main artery of the house, the dining room was the rippling muscle. The walls were a dark grey with a fresh herb garden built into two of them. The smell was fresh, like the first step into a nursery. A heavy wooden table took up the rest of the room, the sturdy oak encompassing both the dining table and the high-backed chairs. Cloth napkins and beautiful porcelain plates sat flawlessly on the smooth surface. 

He was speechless at the sight of it all and took his seat quietly. Hannibal merely quirked a brow and went about serving them – the foreign name of the dish made Will’s head spin, but it smelt delicious, the fumes of it wafting up at him enticingly. It took every ounce of Will’s restraint to wait for Hannibal to pour the decanted wine before digging in.

Interested maroon eyes watched Will’s first bite with delighted enthusiasm, the pinch of his cheeks charming in its imperfection. A soft noise fell from Will’s lips, the attention and burst of flavor on his tongue a true delicacy. “This is fantastic. The bell pepper and chili give it a fantastic kick,” Will gushed, his politeness lacking in the way he shoveled the food in his mouth. He usually lived off of fast food and scrambled eggs, and this break from it was divine – Hannibal’s food was fine dining without the restaurant fuss. 

“Thank you, Will. I enjoy my time in the kitchen. New Orleans is home to so many unique flavors, the recipe exploration has been very eye opening.” Hannibal finally saw fit to cut into his own food then, his bites measured and dainty. He cleared the edge of his knife every time and when the collection of foods hit his mouth, Hannibal closed his eyes to savor each delectable bite. 

“I can tell you appreciate your kitchen. The rest of the house feels like a show room, but the kitchen is thrumming with life. It’s easy to see that you spend a lot of time there.” Will took a break from the food, sipping on his wine, instead. 

They made small talk with the rest of the meal – the natural chemistry that pulsed between them made the minutes fly by; the conversation was easy and despite the known danger, Will felt more comfortable than ever before. Hannibal’s outer most layer was charming and knowledgeable – absolutely impressive in every way. It was no wonder that no one ever thought to suspect him of anything. 

When the dishes were cleared, Will took a seat at one of the barstools in the kitchen while Hannibal worked on the clean-up. He was working through his second glass of wine after getting his offer to help brushed aside and enjoying himself more than was appropriate. Will was sharing space with a killer, and to most, that fact alone drew a firm line in the sand. With every second that passed, Will felt himself moving further and further away from that arbitrary marker – in reality, Hannibal made him question everything he’d ever known. 

“How do you see this proceeding?” Hannibal finally asked after several minutes of comfortable silence. A dish towel was slung over his shoulder, the man’s long fingers digging into it as he spoke. He looked casual, the tone of it making the question a little less menacing. 

Will took a long sip, giving himself a second to think. The alcohol was heavy on his tongue, the rich flavor of dirt resting against his taste buds. He let the tang distract him for a second, grapy goodness clearing the haze from his mind. “I have no clue. If I’m being totally honest with you,” Will replied with a shrug. His fingers played with the stem of his wine glass, the tips of them fiddling with the smooth thinness. 

“You mentioned providing assistance the last time I saw you. Have you given that any further thought?” Hannibal was looking at him dead on now, his hip slung against the counter in a relaxed gesture.

“I have. I think my ability to redirect will be my greatest asset for you. If you don’t keep me too far out of the loop, I can keep people off your trail and let you work in peace. New Orleans is a murder capital of the US – deaths happen here all the time. Keep it clean and out of the public’s eye and I’ll watch your back.” Will felt himself deflate a little when all of the words were out of his mouth – he’d been thinking about that little speech for weeks; he felt so much better for having gotten it out and saying his piece. 

“You’re… interesting. I find myself wanting to know you. That doesn’t provide you with any real relief, I know that – but it leaves the door open,” Will trailed off then, his cheeks blazing with the heat of his confession and the astounding truth within it. Hannibal’s silence was loud, too – one of the only moments between them throughout the entire night that felt even the slightest bit awkward. 

Instead of answering right away, Hannibal narrowed the distance down between them – Will suddenly not alone on his side of the counter. Hannibal’s hands were antsy by his sides, like the muscles were dying to fire and reach out to break down the space even more. “The lucid way you see me is inconvenient. In just one encounter, you peeked past every fortress I have ever constructed. I am – incredibly unsure how to continue. I want to take you up on your offer, but I am wary. I desire you, Will – and that is absolutely terrifying.” 

Unable to stop it, Will felt himself smiling – his heart thrummed at Hannibal’s confession and raced a little harder because of the magnitude of it. He disarmed the most dangerous person Will knew he’d ever encounter. His uniqueness that everyone called freaky was a benefit in Hannibal’s eyes. Sucking in a deep breath, Will took matters into his own hands. “I know it might drive you crazy, but we can just see how it goes. There’s no way that I don’t go down with you at this point if anything happens. If you can’t trust anything else, you can trust in that,” Will said, all while reaching out to hold one of Hannibal’s tense hands. 

“You’re absolutely terrifying, Hannibal. That’s what makes this so compelling.” Will made sure to catch Hannibal’s eyes before leaning in and pressing their lips together. When Hannibal didn’t pull away, Will used his free hand to grip the back of Hannibal’s neck to pull him closer. 

Before things got out of hand, Will broke himself away from warm lips and strong hands to get himself back home. They were both treading a new territory, that much was obvious. There wasn’t any reason to rush things or push where the foundation wasn’t quite settled. He gave Hannibal a soft kiss before walking out the door without a backwards look. 

That was their routine for a while, meeting for dinner and heavier petting each and every time they got together. Hannibal told him about a few of his plans and Will, with his extensive insider knowledge, gave him disposal advice and best dates and times to move. It was wrong, playing second fiddle to someone that so blatantly broke rules without a care for repercussions; and yet, he felt alive because of it – because of Hannibal and the chaos he brought. 

The tide changed slightly when Will got a call deep into his sleep cycle a few weeks later – he took a sleeping pill with the promise of a whole night’s sleep and the next day off. It took him a few seconds longer than he would’ve liked to break the fog of medicated sleep, but he managed and answered the phone before it stopped ringing. 

“Hello?” Will mumbled groggily, not even attempting to check to see who was on the other side. He sobered quickly, however – a pitch of Hannibal’s voice that he never heard before sounded down the line. 

“Will – I need your help. Please.” Hannibal sounded breathless and shaken, the pleading in his tone odd. The tone a sound that Will wasn’t sure he ever wanted to hear again.

“Hannibal – tell me where you are. I’ll get there as quickly as I can.” Will jumped out of bed, writing the address down on the back of his hand after clicking on the light. Will absentmindedly pulled on some sweats and a dark sweatshirt, then stuffed his feet into undiscernible shoes. He wasn’t sure how he got dressed or even out the door, but he was in the car and on the road within a couple of minutes. The drive was long and made even longer by the pull of sleep that wanted to tug Will back under. If it weren’t for the surge of adrenaline he got every time he thought about Hannibal, he might’ve fallen asleep at the wheel. 

Pulling into the back parking lot of a rundown building, it took Will a second to spot Hannibal. His headlights were the only source of light and when they weren’t blasting in his direction, the doctor was hard to see. Will parked next to him and swiftly stepped out of the truck. The sleepiness disappearing completely when he saw the worry on Hannibal’s face. 

“What’s happening? You look devastated.” Will deliberately walked into Hannibal’s space, giving the man enough time to pull back if he wanted to. There wasn’t a flinch or drawback, so Will put a hand on Hannibal’s back, pressing hard enough to make his presence tangibly known. 

“The car has been making an odd noise when I turn the key to start it up. I always got it to turn over, so I tried not to dwell on it. Tonight, it spluttered and coughed and has not responded since. And leaving it here is not an option,” Hannibal answered, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. He was subtly leaning into Will, while fiddling uselessly under the hood. “Does boat knowledge translate to vehicles?” 

Will felt his lips quirk into a smile, despite the severity of the situation. He thought back to the days sitting in the garage with his dad, their old ’65 Mustang opened up and taken apart. No matter where they went and how far apart they drifted, Will and his dad always had their garage moments. He pushed up his sleeves and schooled his features, nodding his head all the while. “I don’t know, but I can take the inside of a car apart piece by piece and put it back together. Your battery and alternator shouldn’t be a problem.” 

Glad to have his toolbox in the bed of the truck, Will pulled it out and hung the overhead light from the open hood of the car. He did a few diagnostic things, poking and prodding a couple places that might be the cause of the issue. Instructing Hannibal to get in and try to turn it over, Will found his initial thought to be true. “You’re going to need a new alternator. Let me jump the battery so you can drive back to my place. I’ll change it for you tomorrow if I can get the part.” 

“I have to work in the morning,” Hannibal tried to interject, his stubborn nature making Will laugh from the absurdity. 

“I can take you home after I get your car parked in my garage. Or, you can stay over, and I can drop you off in the morning.” Will let the invitation sit in the air for a moment, the implication of his offer like an electric current between them. In the minimal light, Will could see Hannibal’s moment of realization. If his pupils weren’t already dark, they would’ve blackened considerably. 

“It can absolutely wait until morning,” Hannibal replied, the instantaneousness of it charming (and cute, though he’d never say that out loud). “Tell me what you need from me.” 

With the cables in his backseat, Will got Hannibal’s car started. They stuck around long enough to make sure it would stay on and running before Will detached the chords and led them both out of the deserted parking lot and back onto the highway. Hannibal followed him closely, maroon eyes catching his in the rear-view mirror time and time again. By the time they got back to Will’s, Will was on edge – so far from the sleepy mood he initially left his place in a couple of hours before. 

Hannibal easily navigated the car into Will’s garage – the engine cutting off with a putter just in time. Will added ordering the part to his mental list for the next day; if he could get his hands on it, he’d be able to fix it before Hannibal finished his work for the day. Will shared that thought with him as they trickled inside – the garage closing behind them. With the craziness of the night behind, Will and Hannibal seemed to sink into each other; their lips and arms and chests crashing together so naturally, the world shifted. 

The one-story nature of Will’s house made it easy to strip and navigate towards the bedroom at the same time. Hannibal’s hands were everywhere, a sort of desperation encroaching on his actions. They were shirtless and a couple of steps away from getting pants off when they made it into the bedroom. Will let out a breathless sigh when Hannibal closed the door and pressed him up against it. Strong fingers cupped Will’s chin, the move forcing their eyes to meet. 

“Why are you doing this?” Hannibal questioned softly, his thumb tracing the length of Will’s bottom lip as he spoke. “I am – being with me, it will not be easy.” 

Will understood what he meant to say with those basic words – the unspoken idea that Hannibal wasn’t normal and any affiliation with him wouldn’t be so, either. It seemed silly to question Will’s intentions after several weeks of a tentative sort of partnership, but the single moment of insecurity in Hannibal’s eyes as he posed his question flashed across Will’s mind. Hannibal probably assumed no one would ever see him for what he was, let alone want him for it. In a lot of ways, Will put Hannibal’s way of life on the line – for such a solitary creature, inviting another into his life had to be difficult. To both accept and accommodate. 

“I don’t care,” Will replied simply, his tone soft and raw. “I don’t give a damn, Hannibal. I’m here, doing this, because I want to be. Despite and because of what I know about you. Being with me won’t be a walk in the park, either.” 

The fingers on his chin tightened minusculey before Hannibal’s lips were on his again. He used his strong grip on Will to tilt his head and deepen the kiss, Hannibal’s tongue sliding heavily into warm heat. A soft moan left Will’s lips, the slight opening of his mouth with the sound allowed Hannibal to push deeper, tasting more of Will. In an attempt to simply hang on, Will gripped Hannibal’s hips and let go. It felt amazing and Will recognized the beauty of the moment right away. 

Meticulously, Hannibal got Will out of the rest of his clothes. Despite the fact that a bed was just feet away, Hannibal kept him pinned against the door. Will shifted into every one of Hannibal’s touches, his skin prickling and pebbling with every new part of his body that was revealed. His pants hit the floor and then Hannibal did, too. Boxer briefs joined his jeans there, Hannibal’s touch both reverent and impatient as he stripped him. Maroon eyes bulged at their first glance of Will in all his glory. Letting his head fall back against the door, Will closed his eyes and let that look sit in the foyer of his mind – he might never see anything more beautiful. 

Hannibal didn’t waste any time before swallowing him down – his kiss swollen lips were warm wrapped around Will’s length. He used his hands to push Will’s legs apart, and his fingers to skim up them until the tips were tracing over drawn up balls. Panting a heavy breath, Will snapped open his eyes to watch the proceedings. Hannibal’s touch was so soft compared to the hardness of his outer shell and when he touched Will, sparks and sharp rightness flowed through his very pores. When they caught eyes, Hannibal’s eyebrows arched, a look of sass crossing over the parts of his face that he could still express emotion with – a second later, two of his fingers joined Will’s length in his mouth. 

If it wasn’t obvious already, Hannibal knew exactly what he was doing. 

Will watched with rapt attention as Hannibal bobbed his head and let the spit drip down his fingers and hand, his wrist more wet with every brush against Will’s sack. He let out a low moan when Hannibal raised his eyebrows again, removed his fingers from his mouth, and slid them confidently across Will’s scrotum and perineum, settling in the dark crevice of firm ass cheeks. Hannibal pulled off then, his chest heaving. “Turn around.” 

It wasn’t hard to follow Hannibal’s order – Will’s body was on fire and his muscles were directly attuned to the pulsing heat in his belly; arousal made the demands and his limbs helplessly followed. Leaning with his forearms against the door, Will spread his legs, putting himself on display. The grunt behind him was satisfying, a look of pure want on Hannibal’s face driving the point home when Will surveyed him over his shoulder. When their eyes met this time, Will gave a wink of his own. 

The sassiness of the look died on the end of a long groan – without warning, Hannibal pulled his ass cheeks apart and licked from crack to hole. His fingers spread Will’s ass wide, the cold of the air and the warmth of Hannibal’s mouth and breath on him was luscious, a gorgeous juxtaposition of feelings and sensations. Hannibal licked at him hungrily, his tongue against Will’s hole sounded around the room, filling up every crevice. It was filthy and absolutely divine – the perfect soundtrack to the passion of their coupling.

Wet fingers joined Hannibal’s tongue in the ultimate tease. The tips traced along Will’s rim, pressing forward just enough to stretch the muscle, but never to push past it. Hannibal used his tongue to keep his hole wet and slippery for the goading fingers and their thrusting, but never going far enough. Will wanted to press back and take what he so desperately desired yet thought better of it. From the noises he was making, Hannibal enjoyed every second of what they were doing, his moans and slurps grew more desperate by the minute. They never rushed before – why start now? 

Instead, Will relaxed his body and let Hannibal have his way with him. He was opened methodically with two fingers that finally pressed in to the knuckle, and a clever tongue and mouth that lavished spit and attention nonstop. Will’s skin was slick with sweat and his cock bobbed obscenely between his legs. He thought to reach down and stroke himself, but he controlled the desire – Will wanted Hannibal to take him apart. From delicate start to peaking finish. 

The suddenness of Hannibal pulling away and standing up on his feet brought him out of his pleasurable floating. Will turned his body to look at Hannibal, his brows pinched in confusion. Hannibal didn’t stay put, however – now naked, he climbed confidently onto the bed and rested back against the headboard. He spread his legs and placed both hands on his thighs – the invitation obvious. “Do you have supplies somewhere?” Hannibal asked in leu of patting his legs to call Will over like a dog. 

Will drew his bottom lip between his teeth, stopping the laugh that threatened to escape. Hannibal was so buttoned up that the exposure of rawness was close to too much – Will felt overwhelmed when new pieces revealed themselves like this. Stuffing his hand into his hair and yanking back slightly, Will used his free hand to point towards the nightstand. “Condoms and lube should be in the drawer.” 

As Hannibal fiddled, Will walked the few paces across the floor to the bed and straddled Hannibal’s thighs. The air in the room was cool, but Hannibal’s skin was blazing, the thick muscles were thrumming with blood, each pulse tangible against his skin. He stayed up on his knees until Hannibal settled, then dropped down into his lap. The spread of his legs and good positioning brought Hannibal’s cock against his hole. Will swiveled his hips, grinding against the warm length. 

A hiss had Will looking up, his mouth wide open from the greatness of the touch. Hannibal’s maroon irises were nonexistent – that same predatory look he remembered from their first meeting clung to his pupils, the darkness there no less frightening than before. In the same way it did then, the look drew him in, pulling him closer instead of stimulating uncontrollable fear. Will thought to trace the darkness but caught himself at the last minute. He swiped across Hannibal’s severe cheekbones, instead. A trail of red followed in his wake; even Hannibal’s blush was so devastatingly charming. 

“I want you,” Will whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Hannibal’s lips.

Hannibal remained still for a moment, his muscles clenched and ready to make his next move. Minutely, the tension left him, and a softness overtook each limb, instead. “Then you shall have me,” Hannibal finally replied. 

Many things happened quickly after that. Hannibal uncapped the lube and found Will’s hole without missing a beat. Will dropped down against the sensation, swallowing both digits in a long, slow glide. To distract himself from the excellent burn of it all, Will pressed forward and took Hannibal’s lips in a heated kiss. He used his tongue the same way Hannibal used his fingers. Will fucked Hannibal’s mouth as two and then three fingers moved in and out of his asshole. It was dirty and quickly seeping into the not enough category. 

A lack of oxygen finally tore them away from each other. Will caught his breath and watched with wide eyes as Hannibal removed his fingers, tore open the condom wrapper and got the rubber settled over himself. Even in that, his movements were smooth. A large dollop of the lube was spread between Hannibal’s length and Will’s hole before their impatience won out. By the time he was seated fully on Hannibal’s cock, Will couldn’t remember who moved first. Their joining was natural, Will stretching around Hannibal like they’d been doing this for eons on end. 

For a while, Will simply rolled his hips to adjust to the stretch – Hannibal’s cock was large and took up so much space within him. When burn turned to smooth pleasure, Will started to move with a little more purpose. He used his strength and Hannibal’s vulnerability to take what he wanted. Hannibal followed his movements, the other’s large arms wrapping around Will’s middle tightly. That touch was his only means of control over Will and they both reveled in the feeling. 

Their pace increased without either of them meaning it to. Hannibal was overwhelmed, Will could see that clearly in the hard clench of his jaw and the shy tuck of his head against Will’s chest. His breath was warm ghosting across Will’s breastbone and the hitch of his enjoyment was palpable in the long sighs and arms tightening around Will. Though it was a silent affair, Hannibal fell apart one piece at a time. 

When Will couldn’t hold on to just the purity of their raw enjoyment anymore, he picked up the pace of his movements, the rolls and thrusts of his hips moving from content to ruthless with two hard hits to the prostate. He rode Hannibal with abandon, pulling the beast of him over the edge just moments before Will joined him. 

Hannibal shouted with his release, his teeth digging into Will’s chest and biting down so miserably hard. There was the sharp pain of teeth breaking skin and then a radiating pleasure that made Will scream Hannibal’s name with reckless abandon. 

\---- 

Quantico, Virginia | Baltimore, Maryland – 2013 

Will felt absolutely volatile.

He figured the walk to his car would be enough to cool him down, but his chest felt hot and the airtight seal on his control was loosening by the second. In his madness, it took him two tries to get his car unlocked and the door open. The stale air of the interior of the car was calming – Will took a long deep breath and let the change in sensation overtake him. 

The longer he was in the car, however, the more the scent of Alana Bloom seeped its way into the air. His lips pulled into a grimace and despite the fact that Hannibal had nothing to truly do with the situation, Will felt a distaste for his husband bubble up inside of him. It took admittedly more thought than ever to remember that they both agreed to keep things to themselves, that in the end, it was his idea to begin with. Their shared secret never felt like such a burden – the covetous act of keeping what was between them strictly between them was so far from the protective decision it started out to be. 

Starting the car, Will forced himself to focus on the drive ahead of him. Hannibal’s late client cancelled for the evening, so he set his course on the GPS and impatiently drove the distance between Quantico and their Baltimore home. Will had half a mind to get Hannibal on the phone, but emotional things never went well for either of them when not face to face. Hannibal was hard to read on a good day – trying to dissect his puzzling words and euphemisms over the phone was damn near impossible. 

Winter hit them full force a few weeks ago, most nights ending with large white flakes of snow falling from the sky. That night wasn’t any exception – a dire need to focus on the road in front of him was a blessing; Will felt almost normal by the time he made it home. The porch light was on and from the looks of it, several others in the house, too. Despite the grumpiness of his feelings, Will let the comfort of being where he should be settle over him.

He took his time getting out of the car, his footwear for the falling snow not nearly adequate enough. In his empty headedness, Will could easily eat shit and wanted to avoid that as much as possible. When he came back to himself, Will knew he’d need to shovel the quickly accumulating snow to stop that very thing from happening. Shaking his head of the thought for now, he tightened his core and made it to the front door. 

The headlights must’ve alerted Hannibal to his presence, because his husband was there to greet him at the door. He looked slightly disheveled himself and took a second to put all the pieces of the moment together. Will watched him with curious eyes as he shrugged out of his coat, neglecting Hannibal’s neatness to throw it on the chair by the door. “Alana Bloom kissed me,” Will said without worrying about a greeting. To make the maximum impact of the words, Will strode out of the foyer and into the dining room, his nose pulling him towards the scent of whatever Hannibal cooked. 

His brow shot up when he noticed that eaten plates were on the table, half-empty glasses of wine accompanying them. “Did you have a guest?” Will asked, his voice dipping into an oddly hostile category. It wasn’t enough that Alana read him completely wrong and looked absolutely devastated when he didn’t have a good excuse to let her down easily. Of course, it wasn’t. What would their life be like without all of Hannibal’s meddling? 

“A colleague, Will. You just missed him,” Hannibal replied distractedly. He went to close the back door, then spun around to look over at Will with wide eyes. His news about Alana must have finally sunk in. “Did you say that Alana Bloom kissed you? Why would she do that?” Hannibal finally looked with it; the man obviously fully caught up. 

Deciding to tackle one problem at a time, Will subconsciously ran his hand across his mouth – the feeling of Alana’s lips so foreign and unwanted; still, after two hours of trying to rid himself of the taste. “Because she has absolutely no idea that I’m a married man, Hannibal. I radiate stability and I guess that’s attractive. Never mind the fact that my stability is directly related to my status… as a married man.” Will’s voice was starting to rise, the charge of his emotions taking him over. He couldn’t remember when the desire for everyone to know set in – but it was there, alive and thriving in spite of his attempts to ignore it. 

Hannibal looked taken aback for a second – his posture shifted, and he dipped his head in an unusual gesture of submission. Will watched him clutch his eyes shut, the move pinching Hannibal’s eyes at the corner. Any other time, Will would’ve melted at the sight. Now, it just made him angry. 

“This conversation could benefit from the distraction of dessert,” Hannibal muttered, walking towards the kitchen without waiting for Will to answer. He knew Will would follow hot on his heels, regardless. 

The kitchen smelt amazing when they walked into it – Will’s stomach grumbled a little when he realized that the oven light was on. Hannibal baked and from the smell of it, butter and sugar were heavily present. He thought briefly about being jealous that Hannibal put his pastry skills to the test for someone else, but there were more pressing matters at the moment.

“How did this turn of events come about? The last time we talked, you had not found any new leads for your current case. Were you not in class?” Hannibal went about taking the pastry out of the oven, garnishing the plate with fruits and a thick looking raspberry sauce. 

“I was rehearsing for my lecture tomorrow when she sought me out. I thought it was odd, but assumed she wanted to talk about Jack or some detail of the case. It didn’t occur to me what any of it meant until her arms were around me. It was embarrassing. For the both of us, I think.”

“How did she react?” 

“She was hurt, Hannibal. I didn’t have a good excuse and the one I made just came off harsh and translucent. It would’ve been better to just call her ugly and get it over with,” Will admitted, a weird sort of shame settling over him. “I can’t keep things between us a secret, anymore. It’s causing riffs in places that it shouldn’t be.” 

Hannibal pushed the dessert plate in front of Will while he spoke, his husband’s inability to be idle disgustingly charming, even in an instance like this. Will shut his eyes, pushing away the thought. He needed to stay mad at Hannibal – Will wanted something and knew he needed to fight to get it. 

“I can’t help but wonder why now,” Hannibal pondered, ignoring the overarching problem by redirecting the conversation.

“Does it matter? The world knows about me now. Everyone expected me to crumble under the pressure, not knowing that a support network existed for me. That at the end of the day, I come home to you. Do you think I’m the only one that others want? Your neurotic client wouldn’t stop staring at you during the performance at the opera the other night. Obsessive or not, that’s interest, Hannibal. Don’t you want people to know I belong to you? And you to me?” Will felt his voice scratching, the intensity of his emotions overtaking him. 

“We agreed to keep things – “ Hannibal started weakly, his words easily cut off by Will. 

“Years ago. When flying under the radar and being unknown was necessary and played to our advantage. We’re not unknown anymore, Hannibal. Jack and Alana, they’re not going anywhere. I don’t know about you but walking up to crime scenes and barely acknowledging you at all isn’t working for me. You’re there to ground me. What we have together, that’s the pillar of strength, Hannibal. You have to know that.” 

“Everything will change, Will,” Hannibal bit back. His arms were crossed over his chest, Hannibal inching towards being completely closed off by the second. 

“Things should change. That’s life, Hannibal. We’re a stronger front together. We’re in too deep with Jack and I want everyone to know where the line stands. I willingly allow you to lead me blindly, why can’t the rest of the world know that, too?” 

In the moments of silence that stood between them, Will started to realize that maybe Hannibal didn’t want the rest of the world to know. With things the way they were, Hannibal was guaranteed protection because of Will’s devotion and a sort of freedom that came with no one knowing about their commitments or the extent of Will’s involvement. The society they lived in revolved around outward claiming and the absence of it left so much room for misconceptions and flexibility. In the arrangement their relationship existed in, Hannibal did whatever he wanted. Sucking in a deep breath at the realization, Will thought back to the second place setting at the dining room table. 

He was being left out of the loop again. 

Setting his dessert plate down on the counter, Will put his hands up in surrender, a wash of sadness playing over him. “You’re scheming again and keeping me at arm’s length from it,” Will accused, the truth of his words settling harshly. “Just be direct with me for once – I’m so tired of navigating around your booby traps.” 

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for you, Will,” Hannibal answered, his voice defeated. The age-old excuse fell lamely between them; after so many years together, Hannibal’s manipulations were for no one’s benefit apart from his own. Will wanted to shout at him – admonish Hannibal with the reality that Will would do anything for him, no matter what he asked. More readily, probably, without so much pushing and shoving of square pegs into round holes. 

“I’m not accepting that, anymore. I just told you what is best for me. Think back, Hannibal – when in our relationship have I plainly asked for anything? The list is short, I promise you. That alone should clue you into the seriousness.” Will let out a harsh breath, sinking his anxious hands into the pockets of his jeans. Hannibal wasn’t looking at him and the longer he stood in their shared space, the more unsettled he became. Shaking his head, Will dug his keys out of his pocket, gripping them in his hand tightly. 

“I’m not going to do this right now. I can’t. Think about what I said. Do what you think is right,” Will said softly, walking towards the door of the kitchen. “I’m going to go stay in my office. If that was my killer in our dining room earlier, I doubt I’ll get much opportunity to sleep, anyway.” He chanced one last look over his shoulder before walking out the door. 

Will stood just outside it for an extra minute, hoping that Hannibal might follow him out. When he didn’t, Will ducked his chin to his chest and left the house – a heaviness sitting like lead in his belly. 

\---- 

New Orleans, Louisiana | Baltimore, Maryland – 2011

The overall passage of time seemed so much faster with Hannibal in his life. 

For the longest time, life was work and home (where he would spend all of his time obsessing about work). Despite being busy all the time, the days were long and passed like molasses. With Hannibal, there didn’t seem to be enough hours of the day to satiate the need to be near him. Never mind the fact that they spent almost all of their free time together. 

And though Will still didn’t bridge the gap and join Hannibal during his nighttime adventures, Will knew so much more about the killers he hunted. If Will asked, Hannibal told him about some of his latest victims. Sometimes, when Hannibal snuck back into bed early in the morning, Will let himself be lulled back to sleep by Hannibal’s deep voice giving him the play-by-play of his most recent hunt. It wasn’t normal, or usual by any means, but it worked for them. The deep-seated ache of wanting to be known to the very core made it easy to look past their oddities – murderous intentions and all. 

After years of floating without the concept of a teether, Will enjoyed the give and take that existed between himself and Hannibal. On his own, Will knew he might have gotten dragged under the tide of the people he hunted and the effect they had on him. He lived a good part of his life in an odd state of shame. It felt good to feel the way he did, but so many people said that was wrong – that living out of bounds couldn’t possibly be normal or sane. Hannibal gave him perspective and stood firm when the choppy waves of Will’s empathy and his body’s reaction to it became so hard to bear. They weathered the storm, and when Will levelled back out, things were exactly the same. 

In the same way that Hannibal held firm for Will, Will bent and shaped himself for Hannibal. It wasn’t difficult to understand that Hannibal was always manipulating and working the situation to fit his mold. His entire life was composed of perfectly put together smoke screens and one-sided games. Will wasn’t surprised when the reach of that extended to him. Spending most of his life sitting behind a one-way glass, Will felt delighted to receive what Hannibal served him and return it justly. 

They enjoyed each other and for a while, that served them well. Will went on working in homicide, solving cases much faster than before. During the ping pong matches that took place between them, Will learned so much from Hannibal; about the people he was investigating and himself. Hannibal somehow had a direct link to the depths of Will’s mind, providing the right stimulation in the form of tricky word games and the asking of off-the-wall but perfect questions. When Will couldn’t see the light, Hannibal provided a total negative to open up the floodgates. 

During his most recent case, Will hit a solid wall, all of his progress screeching to a halt. He poured over folders and spent hours within his head reading the crime scene, but still couldn’t connect the dots. Will knew the profile was dead on, yet the connection between the killer and his motivation to kill the women that he was murdering just wasn’t there. No similar age group existed between the victims, the only comparable feature they shared was their physical appearance. 

When the stall became too much, Will visited Hannibal at his office on Tulane’s campus. It was spacious and loosely decorated like the exhibition halls that were Hannibal’s spare rooms. Will always felt stiff sitting in the chair across the desk from Hannibal but seemed to focus the best in an environment that wasn’t his own. They often met for lunch and long conversations when Will needed a chance to open up and really think. It was intimate in a way that sex would never be with Hannibal – their minds connecting was transcendent. 

Their conversation was helpful, but the vision he was trying to create still stood just barely out of reach. He spent three more days pouring over the evidence, only coming up for air when the need for food and coffee couldn’t be ignored any longer. It wasn’t until a new body came in that Will finally understood the entire picture. The woman fit the profile in all the physical ways, but everything else – it was all wrong. In his gut, Will knew Hannibal gave him this most relevant gift.

Desperate to finally put the case behind him, Will took closing it into his own hands. He waited until he got some usable evidence, then set out without thought. With a quick note for his partner to cover his ass and make someone aware of his whereabouts, Will got behind the wheel of his pickup and drove away. He spent the whole drive thinking about how obvious everything seemed now. His methods were absolutely off the wall, but Hannibal knew how to get through to him. 

The house was dark when he pulled up to it. Without the cruiser lights, Will was left with a small flashlight to guide the way. He kept his gun holstered at his hip, more curious about the situation than scared of the outcome. The mere presence of a gun changed things for desperate people, and Will didn’t want to come in hot. 

Will stayed in the shadow of the side of the house to get to the backyard. Since he didn’t have a warrant to lawfully enter the house, he wanted to keep his presence as low key as possible. There wasn’t a fence surrounding the yard at all, so he tread through the long grass to the backdoor with ease. Trying the doorknob, Will smirked in triumph when it turned completely, and the door opened. 

His steps were heavy on the dirty tile of the kitchen floor, any chance at remaining stealth ruined with the sharp slap of his Converses. The room was pitch black and the small halo of light from the torch wasn’t enough for his eyes to adjust. Sensory deprivation hit him hard – so hard that Will wasn’t aware of the other person in the room until they were right in front of him. There wasn’t even time to draw his gun before the man was on him 

Swinging blindly was pointless, so he closed his eyes and tried to discern his own breathing and that of the other man. He was able to get a couple of punches in before he struggled enough to free himself slightly. In the next moment, there was a distracting bang and the sound of multiple sets of feet pounding against the ground. The rest of his team must’ve picked up on the lead and followed him out there – probably properly armed with the right paperwork and everything. 

Will started to let out a sigh of relief when another crash reached his ears – this one close, in the same room as him. Trying to turn around, Will stopped short when the sharp edge of a blade pierced the skin of his right shoulder like it was soft cheese. A shout left his mouth and he lurched forward, hitting the ground against his will. Luckily, the back door banged open and several people came rushing through it. 

In the end, reckless behavior and six months of shoulder rehab was too much for the New Orleans police force. Upon waking up from his first surgery of three, Will’s captain told him about the status of his employment and left the room with only the slightest nod of his head. Will was groggy and for a while, the information didn’t settle. If it wasn’t for soft fingers locked within the tangle of his own, Will would’ve sworn it was all a dream. His lucid moment didn’t last long, the heavy pain meds and after-effects of anesthesia weighing him down against his control. 

The next time he woke up, Will was in far more pain than before and the blurry haze of delightful drugs was no longer dragging him under. He attempted to sit up but was stopped by a firm hand. “Stay exactly as you are. The sling your arm is in won’t let you move much further, anyway.” 

Blinking a couple of times, Will shook off the confusion and attempted to catch Hannibal’s eye. His brain was having a hard time processing and all the sensory warning bells were going off at the same time. This was probably the first time he’d truly been awake and under natural pain management since he was stabbed. Based on the fuzziness of his teeth, it had to have been at least a week. 

“Hannibal?” Will questioned, hoping to express all of his questions in the single word. 

“I’m right here, Will,” Hannibal replied softly, moving his hand from Will’s chest to grip his uninjured hand. “How do you feel? A nurse will be here shortly to check up on you. All will be happy to see you bright eyed and awake.” 

Will couldn’t help but laugh, his entire body clenching from the energy it took to do so. His muscles ached like he got hit by a truck and what he could feel of his shoulder felt like hot pokers being pressed against nerves and flesh. “Everything hurts.” Will flashed him what he could make of a grin, marking it down as a success when Hannibal returned it with one of his own. 

“You were stabbed and underwent three reconstructive surgeries. I do not doubt that your body feels terrible,” Hannibal reasoned. Both of his hands were cupping Will’s now, eager thumbs brushing against clammy and pallid skin. 

“Have you been here the whole time?” Will asked, trying to squeeze Hannibal’s hand with his own. “How long have I been out, even?” 

“Its been eight days,” Hannibal started, his posture shifting. “The whole time is subjective. I went home and got a shower and cooked meals while you were in surgery and spent one of the nights on a chair out in the waiting room. But, yes. As much as I could be, I have been here.” 

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. And have been most of the time. I’m not sure how I’d feel if I woke up alone.” Will tried to shift again, grimacing. “I didn’t dream getting fired, right? That happened?” He tried to make a joke out of it but wanted to be sure. His brain was so foggy, he hoped it was all a dream-state hallucination. 

“Unfortunately, it did. They softened the blow with a service accommodation, though. The bureaucracy of New Orleans Police Department is astounding.” Hannibal’s lips were pinched like the statement tasted stale on his tongue. For someone who blew by the rules without a second thought, authority probably did express itself like that. 

“I have a better closing rate than some of the old timers. They couldn’t just toss me out on my ass without a little bit of covering their own. I’m sure the write up described it as me stepping down from the position. Like I’m some unstable weakling, or something. How bad would it look – to have hired someone so careless?” Will wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“Some would say you were unapologetically following a lead,” Hannibal remarked, smirking that crinkly-eyed smile. “It’s for the best. Your potential exceeds the boundaries of small-town police departments.” 

Unable to help it, Will’s heart beat a little faster at the sense of pride he felt – Hannibal didn’t give out compliments often. Of course, they were never freely given; like all words and actions with him, each one was delivered precisely to maximize the impact – whatever that might be. Dragging his bottom lip between his teeth, Will attempted to school his features. “That’s all well and good, but I’ll never get another job on a police force in a 200-mile radius. Between medical expenses and living, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without a job.” 

As if waiting for that particular entrance, Hannibal beamed – he let go of one of Will’s hands to reach into his suit jacket. A smooth matte black box wasn’t what Will expected, but most things weren’t where Hannibal was concerned. Dexterous fingers flipped open the front of the box to reveal a pitch-black tungsten ring and a small chain behind it. 

“I had something entirely more elaborate planned, but I think this is the right push I was looking for,” Hannibal started, gripping Will’s hand tightly. “There is no other human on this earth that will see me the way that you do. I treasure that feeling and find myself wanting to cling to it. You are my chance to make a go at things with someone who truly cares for me; every facet, not just the good ones. A life together could be remarkable. Will you marry me, Will?” 

So many emotions rushed through him in that moment; until Hannibal, Will never gave marriage a passing thought. It was something for other people, not ever to be on the docket for him. Hannibal’s words resonated, though – in the same way that Will saw Hannibal, the doctor took Will to pieces and recognized him, too. Will wouldn’t get another chance at something like that – he was sure of it. 

Despite the fact that he was still groggy and overwhelmed, Will tried for a happy grin. “Yes. Of course, I’ll marry you, Hannibal,” Will answered when the ability to form words returned to him. What else was there to say when all the parts fit, and the next step presented itself? They didn’t know each other that long time wise, but their connection – the delicate joining of their minds and souls – that felt aged like the finest of wines. 

Hannibal just felt right. 

With a soft smile, Hannibal slipped the ring onto Will’s finger, holding his hand for a long time after the band settled. In true perfectionist fashion, the ring fit him perfectly and the dark color of it played against Will’s pale skin so nicely. The overall aesthetic spoke of the shroud of darkness that encompassed them and the finer things that Hannibal enjoyed.

Tentatively, Will let his thumb run over the smooth edge of it; he was glad that he could actually move his hand and fingers to do so. A small nugget of hope sat in the middle of his stomach at the feel of it against his skin. The future all of the sudden didn’t look so grim. At least, not in the desperate way it might have without the doctor in his life. 

He tried to express his joy by kissing Hannibal, but the heavy lead of his limbs made it impossible. “Please kiss me, Hannibal,” Will demanded softly, beckoning his new fiancé with a nod of his head. 

Always a gentleman, Hannibal moved to accommodate him. He brought Will’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the knuckle of his ring finger, and then another over his new adornment. When he shifted, Will cupped his cheek and pulled, bringing Hannibal toward him until he could lean up enough to press their lips together. The kiss was chaste, Will so conscious of his lack of hygiene maintenance over the last few days. Hannibal breathed out of his nose and leaned further into him like he didn’t care. 

For the rest of the afternoon, Will and Hannibal shared small kisses and talked about the quiet celebration they wanted for their union. Will’s fatigue pulled him under the call of sleep every now and again, but Hannibal was right there next to him when he woke up again. 

The intoxication of being exactly where he should be outweighed the grief and pain of Will’s entire world shifting around him. Change always sucked, but the direction he seemed to be heading was a good one. There weren’t many times in his life that Will could say that with certainty. 

After that, Will spent another two days in the hospital working several times throughout the day with a physical therapist. The stab wound went through all of the muscles in his rotator cuff, cutting down to the bone. His road to recovery was long and every single movement he made felt like adding on another torturous second to it. There was so much pain that he thought staying immobile for the rest of his life just might be easier. 

Hannibal wouldn’t let that happen, however – he threw his weight around as a doctor and finagled his way into attending every single one of Will’s sessions. When Will didn’t think he could go anymore, Hannibal simply looked at him, or spoke quiet encouragements in the space between them. The first few times, Will wanted to lash out and push Hannibal away, but the further down the rabbit hole they went, the easier it got for Will to absorb Hannibal’s words and use them for motivation. 

Walking out of the hospital, Will already felt better and knew, with Hannibal as his obsessive caretaker, that rehab wouldn’t be the worst thing. 

A few weeks later, Will and Hannibal went to the justice of the peace and said basic vows, signing jointly on the line of a marriage license. It was hard to surprise Hannibal, but Will managed to astound him with a narrower version of his own ring. The thin cut of the tungsten fit perfectly with Hannibal’s long and slightly delicate features. Though Hannibal felt like the yin to his yang from the beginning, the tangible claim was inebriating. Every time the flash of black caught his eye, Will felt a rush of dopamine practically drown him. 

At the end of the summer, about three months into their marriage, Hannibal’s study ended at Tulane. In the midst of Will’s recovery, he took the time to research and spent the early days of their marriage writing a couple of papers. When Hannibal came home with the news about relocating back to his place in Baltimore, Will took it in stride. Being so close to Virginia, he thought about finding a home at the FBI. The field was out of the question, but his experience and college education would be more than enough for a teaching job. 

It was almost too easy – the transition into the large house that was now their home took such minimal effort. Will rented his place in New Orleans and fit most of his treasured belongings into three boxes and a duffle bag. The similarity of Hannibal’s houses in both New Orleans and Baltimore was eerie – Will spent the first few weeks of their move in making himself at home. Fishing gear took up some of the space and where life didn’t exist before, Will dragged it through the door with him. The few photos they took on their wedding day graced their bedroom walls, even. As base as it was to say, things were nice. 

The flow of life, of course, didn’t allow things to stay that way for long. 

Like he figured, Will got offered a job at the FBI Academy at Quantico after a couple of easy interviews. Recklessness wasn’t a turn off for an entity attempting to train the next generation of the public’s protection – every tool in the toolbox helped. Shifting into lecture mode was surprisingly easy; Will settled in without a struggle and for once in his entire adult life, enjoyed his job. 

On top of returning to his private psychiatric practice, Hannibal also dove back into one of his public personas. Less than three months after returning to his old haunt, the first of the Chesapeake Ripper’s ‘sounders’ dropped. They didn’t discuss it, but Will knew almost instantly. The literal tongue and cheek of the final product screamed the very essence of the dramatic man he shared his life with. It was only a matter of time before things escalated and the next two followed suit. 

By the time the second body was found, Will started to hear murmurs about the case around the FBI’s lecture halls. If the trainees were gossiping, there had to be some merit of truth to what was circulating. Jack Crawford, the head of the BAU, personally signed on to work the case – which meant that the best of the best were delving deeply into Hannibal’s work. Will trusted him explicitly; there wasn’t any doubting that. Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease, either. 

The rightness of his gut instinct made itself known in the form of the shrill ringtone of his phone several days after the second body was found, the loudness of it cutting through the quiet of his empty classroom. All of his classes were done for the day, so he used the free time to create the next few days’ worth of lesson plans. He was so far in the zone that the ring shook him, his heart pounding against his chest like he ran a marathon at the disturbance. Sucking in a breath to slow everything down, Will fiddled around until he found the source of the noise and silenced it by answering the call. 

“Hannibal, hey,” Will greeted, smiling now that he didn’t feel close to passing out. 

There was a beat of silence, then – “Will, I need your help.” 

Suddenly brought back to a night more than a year ago, Will stood up from his desk, clutching the phone to his ear. “Tell me where you are, Hannibal. I’ll be there,” Will replied without hesitation, the shock from earlier gone – his entire mood shifting. He listened long enough to find out that Hannibal was at his office, then disconnected the call and strode out of his classroom, leaving everything but his keys and phone behind. 

Walking into the office, Will couldn’t help the frown that overtook his face. The familiar face of Miriam Lass looked at him from Hannibal’s patient chair, the smallest rise and fall of her chest the only indication that she was alive. Hannibal looked uncharacteristically sheepish. A clear conundrum lay before them and it was all Hannibal’s fault.

Will tried to be patient as he listened to Hannibal recall Miriam’s introduction and line of questioning. He tried to hold onto that feeling as his husband continued to tell him about the wound man drawing (which he left in plain sight), and how the need to subdue her came about after her sudden realization. It felt like a triumph, when he got to the end of the story and didn’t outright punch Hannibal right across the face. 

“Hannibal, she’s my student,” Will finally said, looking everywhere in the room except for the lump of FBI trainee on Hannibal’s fancy furniture. He thought about how she expertly answered his vague question earlier in the week – it felt like an eternity away now that the world shifted once again. 

“I’m aware of that. Now. I did not know what else to do. She put things together so quickly, I acted before thinking.” Hannibal straightened his tie and waistcoat out of nervous habit, his fingers running over the fabric in an attempt to soothe. 

“You can’t display her,” Will replied immediately. His brain was running through option after option, weighing all of the consequences. “There’s a tangible tie to you, Hannibal. And me, for that matter. Whatever you decide, stay quiet about it.” 

Hannibal quirked a brow at him, his face screwed in genuine loss and confusion. It was the oddest look for him – such a sure man shouldn’t be able to appear so turned around. “Then I will not kill her at all. She’ll serve a greater purpose,” Hannibal decided, all of the sudden looking sure again. “What do we do about the list she was investigating?” 

“Hope no one else knew about it.” Will shook his head, reeling from the raw reality of the situation. “And cut any obvious ties.” It made sense in a way, no one knew Will in Hannibal’s circle and to the populace of Quantico, Will was a lonely weirdo with no people skills. No one knew about their relationship and those that did would never make the connection. Sighing deeply, Will ached with the realization. 

“That doesn’t mean – “ Hannibal began, the worry line of his brows and forehead making a sudden appearance. He wasn’t stressed yet, but a few more things out of sorts and Hannibal would be there. 

“Splitting up? No, of course not. We just – keep things between us. Go on living life without the outward tie of acknowledging who we are to each other,” he suggested, his stomach sinking. “I guess I’ll finally get to use that chain you gave me.” Will grimaced at the words sounding in his ear, his fingers already working to take the ring off – like another minute of contact with it where it no longer belonged would melt the digit from his hand completely. 

Though Will knew it was a good idea, it felt wrong denying what they had. For the first time since meeting him, Will wished Hannibal didn’t tirelessly work to make things so horrendously difficult. 

“If that’s what you think is best,” Hannibal agreed attempting to look somber – his eyes were perfectly glassy and wide. Will knew better, though. In the grand scheme of things, this was a victory for Hannibal. Being privy to only fifty percent of his husband’s plans, Will assumed everything Hannibal did had an underlying reason. 

Despite the insanity of it, Will loved him all the more for it. 

\---- 

Baltimore, Maryland – 2013 

About twelve hours after leaving Hannibal behind in the kitchen, Will got a call from Jack Crawford. 

He claimed an anonymous tip led them to make the connection to Tobias Budge and his chordophone shop, but Will was highly skeptical. Hannibal played with Jack in a way that made the head of the BAU believe he had control. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for Hannibal to let something slip in a casual “check in” between the two of them. Whatever the case was, Will had an assignment and two of Baltimore PD’s finest to back him up. 

The air was still when they walked into Tobias Budge’s shop. For a music store, it was strangely quiet. He was surprised to find the mysterious man next to Hannibal’s patient at the opera staring at him from the doorway when he finally glanced up. There was a young man next to him, looking curiously between them. 

“Special Agent Will Graham with the FBI. Are you the owner?” Will asked. He didn’t meet Tobias’s eye, unwilling to acknowledge any sort of previous connection. His presence at the opera was strictly professional, done because of Jack’s insistence on “getting as close as possible”. To the man in front of him, that’s all it looked like, too. 

“Yes. Tobias Budge. I’m just showing one of my students out. Can I have a moment?” 

Will nodded, not wanting anyone that didn’t need to be there present. The overall feeling Will got from the situation was danger. Innocents didn’t need to be a part of that. 

The bell over the door chimed, then Tobias turned back to him, a fake smile painted on his face. “What can I help you with?” 

“We’re investigating the death of Douglas Wilson. He was –“ Will started to explain before he was cut off when Tobias chimed in. 

“The trombonist,” Tobias remarked, nodding solemnly. 

“That’s right. Did you know him?”

“I was aware of him. Baltimore is a small town and the cultural arts community is an even smaller one.” His eyes were wide, looking at him with the mirth of shared knowledge. Will wanted to clench his jaw against the worry in his gut but refrained. 

“That’s why we’re here, Mr. Budge.” 

“I heard someone cut his throat and tried to play it with a bow,” Tobias regaled without prompting, his tone as if he were discussing the weather. 

Crinkling his brow, Will felt a light bulb click. The brightness of the glow blinding in the way that everything was finally clear. “Why do you say try?” 

For a few peculiar minutes, Will made small talk about obvious details that only those working the case and the killer were privy to. He enjoyed the way Tobias tried to dodge around his knowledge of “cat” gut and its treatment. Now that he knew the truth, Will heard it in every cheeky statement Tobias had to say. 

Before he got any further in their conversation, however, Will felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. At this point in the investigation, not answer Jack or whoever else was on the other side wasn’t an option. Attempting to look upset about the excuse to exit the room for a moment, Will lifted his phone in explanation and walked out of the shop. Before he could clear the steps outside, the call ended abruptly. Checking the log, Will frowned at the unknown number. 

Shaking his head, Will walked back into the shop. The dead quiet of the place returned with a vengeance, the absence of sound and obvious presence of the two cops he came with put him on high alert. Will looked closely around the room, letting out a breath of worried triumph when he spotted the crack of some sort of hidden door. As quietly as he could, Will walked down the stairs to a basement, the apparent reason for it growing bolder with every step down. Upon entering the room, Will’s nose crinkled at the smell of chemicals and rot. His eye bulged when he found his fellow police officers, both of them face down on the ground unmoving. 

With the effects of fight or flight flying through him, Will walked further into the room, eyes peeled for the shadow of Tobias Budge. Getting closer to the corner of the space, Will didn’t realize how trapped he was until a thick wire was cutting into his peripheral vision from behind. He got his hand up a second before the string slit across his throat to put him on the ground like his fellow comrades just feet from him. Will used the hand not stopping him from decapitation to lift his gun, shifting just enough to pull the trigger.

A severe ringing overtook Will’s mind for a second, the bang from the gunshot taking several years off of his ability to hear. The shot did its job, however; Tobias Budge was fleeing up the stairs, gripping the side of his head as he went. Still shaken up from the shocking sound of the gun going off, Will stumbled over to the downed officers. He used one of their radios to call for backup. Once he was done with that, Will called Jack. 

It only took one ring for the agent to answer, like he was expecting Will’s call.

“Jack, Tobias Budge is our guy. I lost him, but he’s the one,” Will said without a hello. His mind was racing with possibilities and what-if’s. He tried to continue back Jack stopped him. 

“Will, I know. There’s been a disturbance at Hannibal’s office. Budge is dead.” 

Despite the good news about Budge, Will felt himself caught up on Hannibal. “And Hannibal? Do you know anything about him?”

Will heard Jack sigh on the other end of the line. “I’m not entirely sure. He made the call to 911, but that’s all that I know.” Jack stopped for a second, finally using his intuition as an intelligent human correctly for once. “Stay where you are. We’ll go over there together.” 

Unable to argue with him, and not really wanting to be alone, Will agreed without fuss, hanging up only when he knew that Jack was on his way. Will waited impatiently for him to get there, and even more so on the drive over to Hannibal’s office. They didn’t talk, which made the tension pulse even heavier. Will already wasn’t sure how he’d react to seeing Hannibal and Jack’s presence didn’t help that feeling at all. A sigh of relief slipped from Will’s lips when they pulled into the parking lot, both in impatience to get to Hannibal and to avoid any more time stuck in the awkward black hole that was dealing with Jack Crawford. 

In a desperate attempt to keep himself together, Will forced himself to fall two steps behind Jack. He didn’t want to seem eager to enter the room (despite being so far past hopeless). Regardless of keeping his eyes downcast, Will could feel Hannibal staring at him, the maroon depths for once clear of anything that wasn’t pure relief. Hannibal’s cheeks quirked ever so slightly when they finally locked eyes. 

“I was worried you were dead,” Hannibal admitted, voice scratchy and rough from the course of genuine emotion. Will didn’t spend the last three years of his life getting to know Hannibal without understanding the moments where his husband truly felt. The eyes staring back at him were real and honest. 

Nodding lightly, Will let that be his answer – his control hanging by a thread. Hannibal’s touch was all over the crime scene and its prior orchestration, Will knew that without having to think much about all the parts that now fit together. He was still admittedly upset with Hannibal’s treatment of the situation so far into their time together, yet Will couldn’t stop himself from breathing freely for the first time since Tobias Budge entered the scene. 

They shared a heated look until Jack brought their case back to the forefront. Hannibal answered their questions, projecting the innocent victim well. When things settled and Will wasn’t so mad, he ought to reward Hannibal for his never ending cunning. Jack pestered until there were no scabs left to pick, turning from them to broodily stare around the room.

Will took Jack’s absence as the chance it was to get Hannibal alone for a moment. Sitting on the edge of Hannibal’s desk, Will already felt better from the proximity. 

“I feel like I’ve – “ Will started to say around the same time that Hannibal spoke. 

“I’m so glad – “ 

They stopped, looking at each other with unblinking stares. Will smirked a little, nodding his head in Hannibal’s direction in concession. 

Instead of repeating himself, Hannibal stood up from the chair he’d been huddling in and pulled Will into his arms. One hand cupped his cheek, the flat of his thumb brushing the sharp bone, while the other pulled him close by the small of his back. “I thought I lost you,” Hannibal murmured before closing the space between them. 

Their lips met in a brief kiss, then a handful of shared breathes. Will pulled back to look at his husband curiously, so many questions coming to the surface now that they couldn’t take that action back. He opened his mouth to ask but was beat to the punch by an exasperated Jack Crawford behind them. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” 

Leaning his forehead against Hannibal’s in joyous solace, Will let laughter wash over him. 

Now the fun really began.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking around, guys! I had a lot of fun/anxiety writing this. I tried to put it away and come back to it, but I couldn't get anything else out until this made its appearance. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed (if you did, please let me know - I've been driving myself nuts with this one).
> 
> Come find me on tumblr (whispersthroughthechrysalis) - I love new pals!


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